Glorified whiskey-barreled version of full-bodied ‘Gonzo’ pleats cedar-seared bourbon boozing with sweet chocolate-vanilla richness, syrupy molasses-smoked opulence and milked coffee residue. Mildly creamy velveteen texture reinforces heavily lactic flow and charred oats base. Chocolate-caked cocoa powdering surrounds expansive burgundy, sherry and blackberry brandy ethers. First-rate slow sipper recommended to all porter-stout aficionados.
Impressively heady second-year collaboration (2011) not far removed from wood-aged stout but listed as American strong ale. Creamy maple and birch syrup provides thick molasses sweetness to naturally carbonated overachiever. Brown sugared toffee-candied Tootsie Roll-like splendor and dark chocolate-y black coffee overtone impact mellow bourbon-port ascension. Black cherry, raisin puree, blackberry and raspberry illusions contrast oats-toasted hop char and black tarred resin. It’s all too much and evolves rather peculiarly, but Big Beer aficionados need apply.
Brazenly engaging purple-browned ‘malt beverage’ christened as a porter/ Scotch ale hybrid never gets bombastic despite saturated mocha fruiting. Initially, creamy coffee-roasted black chocolate richness and ashen pine-tarred charcoal astringency overwhelm advertised sweet ‘n sour blueberry blot. Bourbon whiskey esplanade reaches sharp cola nuttiness, chafing blueberry pie tartness as well as tertiary blackberry, raspberry, boysenberry and acai pureeing. Confectionery blueberry-jammed blueberry muffin underside, slim bruised cherry wisp, and teensy hazelnut drift likewise affect rich mocha-molasses malting. Imagine a liquid German Black Forest Cake with blueberry syrup.
Sublime brown-sugared cinnamon apple sweetness elevated by pumpkin pie spicing and diffuse gingerbread-nutmeg-allspice-cardamom niceties. Sharp-hopped carbolic frisk tingles tongue as cinnamon cider theme increases intensity. Tart Granny Smith apple souring and medicinal cherry coughdrop snip refine frosty autumnal splendor. On tap at Doherty’s (2016), dryer apple influence picked up sour cider-fig snip to counter sweet cinnamon spicing.
Exemplary Imperial India Pale Ale boasts hefty 86 IBU’s, but intricately-woven fruited hops and fruitier malts conceal sharp juniper bittering and expansive ethanol burn of 9.4% alcohol elixir. Prickly West Coast-styled pine needling saturates ripe red cherry, peach, pineapple, pear, pink grapefruit and navel orange tang. Creamy crystal malting and sugared almond-pecan glaze contrast floral white-peppered tingle.
On tap at Jimmy’s No. 43, smashing Belgian-styled saison utilizes Brassier Dupont yeast to give off proper sour fruiting. Dry white-wined entry picks up lemon-rotted cherry, plum, fig, and prune propensity skewering sweet banana-pureed lemon custard lurk. Ancillary black-peppered orange spicing and mild pekoe tea hint awaken plasticene clay-hopped herbage.
Flagrantly sour American wild ale connects white-wined champagne dryness, tannic yellow grape esters, and oaken cherry tartness to bourbon vanilla assertion above funky brettanomyces-laced earthiness. Mouth-puckering cider pungency grazes tertiary white peach cranberry, fig, lime and kumquat illusions. Belgian gueuze-like profile enhanced further by piquant vinegar-soured raspberry vinaigrette acidity and pinot grigio parchedness.
Musk-like German pils brings doughy stale-breaded mineral graining to corn-husked lemon rot peculiarity. Sharp Saaz hop grassing subsumes weirdly herbaceous whim and metallic honey-soured apple-peach depletion to wet cardboard backdrop.
Wondrous updated version of Yakima Twilight (circa 2011) better defined as mahogany-hued Cascadian Dark Ale (or trendy Black IPA). Abundant citrus splurge and resonant stone fruiting more pronounced than blackened hop char. Smooth dark-roasted caramel malting and powdery cocoa acridity harmonize well with grapefruit-soured, prune-stewed cherry-berry conflux. Resinous pine nuts crease burnt toast bottom.
Indistinct moderate-bodied copper-toned marzen places thin maibock-like fruited souring next to soapy hop astringency. Blanched orange-tangerine-cherry tartness deadens upon impact and phenol-spiced autumnal foliage lacks resolve. Biscuit-y bottom cracks.
On tap at Jimmy’s No. 43, unyielding lemon-seeded grapefruit bittering leads the way above woodsy bark-dried pine grove and resin-hopped lemongrass herbage. Sugary crystal-malted citric candied lemon currying contrasts lemon-peeled grapefruit rind souring. Deep alcohol burnt astringency sidles botanical citron valor.
JERSEY CITY’S ZEPPELIN HALL STANDS TALL
Fabulousness is nothing new to Zeppelin Hall proprietor, John Argento. The former owner of New York City’s premier ‘80s nightclub, Danceteria, now runs the Garden State’s largest German biergarten. Including its three-room interior, the 26,000 square foot public house truly does dwarf any competition in both expanse and draught selection.
“Danceteria was more interested in being fabulous than rich,” Argento says as we sit in his loft office. “We were always working on a budget and four weeks from bankruptcy. We were drawn into getting our name on Page 6 (of the Daily News) than buying Jersey Shore houses. You learn to be lean and mean and that’s how I run Zeppelin Hall.”
Taking its aerostat name from rigid airship inventor, Count Von Zeppelin, this luxuriously detailed ground floor space in Jersey City’s newly developed Liberty View was a raw shell of a building when local developer Peter Mocco recruited his pal Argento to take charge. They had already turned Jersey City’s Sand Bar into a successful restaurant lounge in the ‘90s – before Argento went to culinary school and got ‘headhunted’ to be General Manager of Queens-based Bohemian Hall.
Though Bohemian Hall offered good business, high income and low expenses, Argento claims the place looked like a 1970’s basement with drab wood panel. However, he enjoyed its ethnic diversity and interesting mix of business professionals and young artists.
“A poorly managed Czech Society owned Bohemian Hall, New York’s oldest biergarten,” Argento explains. “But it was crowded seven days a week. Lunchtime would gather 800 people. Peter came over unexpectedly one Saturday afternoon. There was a line down the block. Realizing nightclubs only made money from 10 to 2 in the morning twice a week, I knew the biergarten concept was being underutilized. People of all shapes, sizes and color sharing a common economic level came to enjoy sausages and beer on a beautiful day. Nightclubs segregated their population to narrow bins.”
Since Czech pilsners and lagers lack stylistic diversity, Argento wanted to open a Pan-European bar that took in Belgian beers, German wheats, British bitters and American micros as well. An astounding 144 taps were installed. He expected 400 people on a Thursday night soft opening in June ’09, but instead got 1,200 during a rainstorm. Some complained the first few nights because getting a beer from the understaffed bartending crew was difficult. Thereafter, an expanded staff was hired to cater as many as 2,000 varied customers at any given time.
“People thought I was crazy opening a mammoth space in the middle of nowhere – Jersey City’s ass end wasteland before revitalization. But it became a destination location,” he concedes. “You can’t survive as a local neighborhood bar here. But people will come to a big place with a wide beer selection because it’s a Happening.”
Unlimited free parking, path train access, and easy waterway transport afford Zeppelin Hall plenty of traffic. Upon entering, the Pub Room offers homey warmth with its stone fireplace (with overhead projection screen), multiple cafeteria-styled wood tables, and ample J-shape bar.
The middle room has a small stage area and a template of a German castle and Bavarian village sidling the open kitchen (serving pretzels, schnitzels, bratwurst, kielbasa). Filigreed iron doors lead to The Ratskeller, a 9-tabled 12-tap banquet spread with a beautiful nighttime view of Manhattan from the tall glass windows.
Then, there’s the festive biergarten featuring a tile walking plaza, 48 outdoor taps, London plane trees, and German-styled gravel ground. Backing up to the rail line, this colossal 12,000 square foot courtyard proves no stone has been left unturned.
“At age 50, I knew I had to get out of Danceteria’s trendy edge, beating my head against the wall appealing to only 5% of the people who went out nightly,” he asserts. “I’d send a booking agent twice a week to Manchester, England to book popular British bands, bringing the Smiths over and becoming the first to play Bananarama, Sade and Soft Cell. Billy Idol debuted “White Wedding” there. After culinary school, I tried to do something that’d appeal to the other 95%.”
During my inaugural November trip, hotshot beer mavens such as Hunterdon Distributors’ Dan Masterson, Flying Dog owner Jim Caruso and Victory Brewery sales rep Steve Gates stop by to enjoy a pop. There are some post-collegiate types, several white-collar businessmen, a few lab technicians and two moms with three kids on hand.
“There’s a German word, gemutlichkeit, which means a sense of well being or coziness amongst friends,” Argento elucidates. “That’s what we engender here. We encourage people to talk – a lost art amongst singles bars where people dress to the nines. It’s very low pressure. I don’t need any drama at this point of my life.”
So check out the capacious beer hall with the weirdly rock and roll-styled name that’s clearly connected to Jersey’s Hindenberg disaster or dare to miss out on one of the most unique drinking experiences you’ll ever encounter.